


A Heart of Embers

by HaziestShade



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Class war, Disaster Lesbians, Edeleth, Edelgard's Manifesto, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Revolution, Revolutionary Girl Edelgard, Roll up to see Bernadetta's dad get owned, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaziestShade/pseuds/HaziestShade
Summary: Raised in Gharreg Mach, Byleth is Rhea's loyal bodyguard.Believed dead by Those That Slither Edelgard is the daring revolutionary, the Phoenix.When their paths cross on Rhea's visit to Enbarr, Byleth's worldview is burned and rebuilt.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	1. Prologue: Unkindled

Something lurched in her chest, a jolt of feeling not unlike being shocked. She paused, clutching her sword. Turning, she scanned the marble buildings that loomed over the road. 

Rhea walked tranquility ahead, smiling gently at the cheering crowds that lined the street. Catherine and Jeralt walked by her side, both of them looking warily at the throng lauding Rhea _.  _

She ran a thumb across her pommel, her chest constricting painfully.  _ I thought I saw... _ Something crimson flashed at the edge of her vision and she spun, staring at the roofs. 

Frustrated she ran a hand through her hair, finding nothing on the roofs. Slowly Byleth moved ahead, priests and scholars passing her with worried glances.

“You see something?” Shamir asked, drawing close enough to be heard over the crowd. Byleth frowned as Shamir’s gaze turned to the cobbled roofs looming over the street.

Reluctantly Byleth shook her head. “No.” 

She continued forward ignoring the unease that prickled within her. “Tis’ a beautiful city, is it not?” A fat man with thinning violet hair and a well-trimmed beard pronounced, trotting to her side. 

Byleth hummed, the buildings surrounding her were gracefully built, white brick and marble topped with red cobbles. Lush gardens and fountains displayed out front. 

“It is fine.” She answered. She couldn’t say whether or not the city was beautiful, it just was.

“Only fine, eh? You have harsh standards.” The man’s face was oddly sallow, loose skin hung from his jaw and chin, his cheeks unnaturally plump. 

He smiled at her with thin lips, his dark eyes sunken and calculating. 

“I am Count Varley, Minister of Religious affairs.” He offered her a hand. “I’ve heard that the Archbishop is most fond of you.”

_ Fond of me?  _ The thought flit dully through her mind before she dismissed it. “Nice to meet you.” She said dutifully. 

Varley’s gaze was fixed on her, strangely reminiscent of the eyes of dead fish. “Have you been to Enbarr before, my lady?” 

She shook her head. “I’ve never been.” She didn’t bother to remember the places she went, only Gharreg Mach truly mattered.

Varley laughed. “If only I could look upon Enbarr again for the first time. It is truly the most magnificent city in all of Fodlan.”

Byleth nodded. Her heart had slowed, her hand dropped from her sword.  _ It was nothing.  _ She walked ahead, the crowd’s cheers overwhelming. 

Varley scurried to keep up. “It is an honor to meet the Archbishop once again, I have long prayed that the church might one day return to it’s former prominence.”

He huffed, scowling at the setting sun. “It has been difficult in the church’s absence I must say. Without an official sect, I have had to fill my time with  _ other  _ matters. Namely the punishment of sinners in the eyes of the goddess...that is to say, criminals.” He tugged proudly at the beard.

“With my assistance and a firm hand the city has  _ never  _ been so secure, I assure you of that. I made certain to hang a few miscreants before the Archbishop’s arrival to remind all the rabble what becomes of trouble-makers.” Varley chuckled. “You can not have the criminals thinking you have a soft touch, you see. Obedience comes only through fear.”

Byleth thought of Lady Rhea, she did fear her, when Rhea became truly angry but even so...something about the Duke’s statement irked her.

“The emperor ought to have taken that into account, perhaps he may have kept his power,” Varley said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Ionius is old and lost to grief it must be said.” 

“Grief?” Byleth asked, curiosity stirring.

Varley nodded. “Ten years ago a...sickness struck the royal family, all of his children but one perished at it’s hands.” He tsked. 

She felt a jolt of surprise. “I never knew.”  _ Ten children...All dead but one.  _ She knew the thought should have saddened her but she felt nothing.

“Yes, it was a tragedy truly. I was set on one of those boys marrying my daughter.” He huffed.

Byleth continued walking, seeing no reason to acknowledge Varley. On the horizon, the palace rose like the sun. It easily dwarfed the manors they had already passed in both size and extravagance, crafted of gleaming white marble and golden domes that caught that setting sunlight.

They left the crowds behind their cheers growing softer the farther they walked.

“A grand sight, is it not?” Varley asked, putting a pudgy hand on her shoulder.

Byleth bristled at the touch, wrenching her shoulder from his hand. A dark scowl flashed across Varley’s face before it settled back into placidity. “I am sorry if I startled you, my lady.”

Byleth shook her head. “Don’t touch me,” she said simply, regaining her gait.

Their procession moved on, Rhea at the head and Byleth lingering behind, Varley chattering nonstop at her side. As the sun sank below the horizon they passed through a titanic stone gate and into the palace courtyard. 

They moved through a well-manicured garden, stern-faced guards nodding at them as they walked. As they advanced toward a pair of massive jeweled doors a pair of guards wrenched them open. Rhea led them through the extravagant palace halls to another grand pair of doors.

“Sir Jeralt, Catherine, please wait for me outside. Byleth, please accompany me to my meeting.” 

Jeralt caught her eye, a familiar look of wariness on his face.

“Yes, Archbishop.” Byleth obeyed, walking to her side, ignoring Catherine’s glare.

The doors yielded easily to Rhea, revealing a throne room almost as grand as Gharreg Mach’s cathedral. 

At the end of a series of steps was an old frail-looking man perched on a throne, a portly man with balding ginger hair and a girl with light brown hair in fine red clothes.

The girl and the Prime Minister bowed but the emperor stayed seated.

“Emperor Ionius, Prime Minister, Princess Edelgard.” Rhea greeted, her voice cool.

“Archbishop.” The emperor acknowledged, his voice weak and strained. 

“Archbishop Rhea, to be in the presence of one so holy as you is truly an honor. Your beauty and wisdom are famed throughout the land-”

“Oh, stop with the flattery. It’s very boring.” The girl interrupted, yawning. 

Rhea turned to the girl, a familiar look of shock and anger in her eyes. “It is only proper to greet one’s guest with such courtesy, Princess Edelgard.”

The girl smirked at them. “Of course, Archbishop. But I think it’s rude to waste your time with hollow compliments.” 

“Edelgard…” The emperor raised a hand as if to silence her but she greeted it with scorn. 

“The Prime Minister has brought you here to reestablish the northern church.” Edelgard sat on the arm rest of the throne, a hand propping up her cheek and a mocking grin on her face.

Rhea turned an icy gaze to the girl before settling her gaze on the Prime Minister. “I see. I shall have to consider this matter carefully.”

Byleth stood diligently, her hand on her sword as the Emperor and Rhea began to negotiate, the Prime Minister chiming in every few seconds.

Byleth’s gaze wandered the throne room, the tapestries bearing the black eagle crest when her chest seized. She clutched desperately at her chest, the feeling growing tighter and tighter as if caught in a vice. Her vision narrowed into a black tunnel as her eyes focused in on Edelgard’s careless smirk.

“Byleth!” Suddenly Rhea was at her side, a steady arm keeping her upright. “Are you injured?” Rhea demanded.

Byleth shook her head. “No, I don’t know….” She trailed off, gasping at the pain.

“My companion needs rest, we will resume this tomorrow.” 

Byleth drew desperate breaths as the emperor nodded ponderously. “Of course Archbishop. Lord Vestra will see you to your rooms.” 

Rhea swept her out into the hall as her chest was overcome with an unfamiliar pulsing sensation.

_ I feel...it feels…. _ The thoughts fled like droplets of rain lost to the gutter as her chest seized.

A gaunt hollow-cheeked man with black hair and a closely trimmed beard greeted them. “I the minister of the royal household and all it’s guests if you will allow me to lead your companion-”

“No!” Rhea snapped. “I will take her to her rooms, you see that a healer is sent for.”

The man gave her a withering look, bowing stiffly. “As you command.” 

She was half carried half led up two flights of stairs and several hallways to a grand bedchamber. Rhea guided her gently to a plush canopied bed. “Rest here, I will watch over you.”

Byleth nodded dully, her vision fading. As sleep claimed her, a soft song seemed to surround her, familiar and foreign at the same time.

It was still dark when she awoke. She rolled out of the unfamiliar bed. She often walked the grounds of Gharreg Mach when she could not sleep when she needed to feel the wind against her face.

She walked cautiously to the castle grounds, ignoring the staff’s curious looks. Ahead she saw the familiar stout figure of Lord Varley hurrying through the palace gates.

_ He’s in a rush.  _ The thought was idle but Byleth found herself trailing him out the gate regardless. She stayed a ways behind him, her gait silent. 

Varley rushed through the city, the manors and prosperous shops gradually displaced by crumbling tenements leaning precariously against each other. From broken windows and dark alleyways, dirty, sunken faces watched her hungrily.

Varley came to a stop in front of a dingy looking tavern with a sign reading “The Crimson Plume.” After a moment three figures filtered out of the tavern, all in black hoods and shrouds. 

Byleth crept closer, ducking behind a foul-smelling pile of rubbish behind the bar.

“I’m here just as I said I would be, now give me those letters!” Varley demanded, his voice shrill. 

One of the shrouded figures laughed. “What are you gonna do if we don’t? hang us?”

“I’d gladly see you  _ all  _ hanged.” Varley blustered.

A fourth figure dropped down nimbly from one of the windows. “You hanged my cousin y'know, Arla was only fourteen.” The figure accused.

Varley scowled, his face a burning red. “She was a criminal now give me those letters!!”

“Sure we will. After we print em’ for the whole city to read.” A more feminine voice said.

“If you do that I swear to god I’ll hang you all, every last one of you!” He rushed forward, gripping one of the figures by the shirt, shaking them. “Now hand them over!”

Byleth gasped as a lithe figure from the roof of the tavern nimbly flipped down to the street, landing in a crouch. With one hand they gripped Varley by his neck; raising him in the air, his legs kicking futilely.

“Your hanging days are done Lord Varley and so are you.” The figure said in a stern voice. “Take him.” She threw him to the ground; the shrouded figures quickly gripping him by both arms, one of them shoving a rag in his mouth.

The leader turned, looking straight at Byleth. They wore a beaked crimson mask a flowing black cloak.

Byleth’s hand went to her sword and then she screamed, falling to her hands and knees something pounding inside her chest with the force of a hammer. 

As the darkness overtook her she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, the masked figure crouched beside her, and finally, her heart was calm.


	2. Sparks

Someone was moaning. Clumsily Byleth reached out, her trembling arm falling from exhaustion a second later.

She heard another moan as she tried to get her blurry vision to focus. Above her was gray stone, to her left and right was more of the same.  _ I must be in a cell.  _ The thought sluggishly penetrated the fog of her mind.

She tried to sit up, the world spinning as she did so and collapsed back onto the bed.  _ What is wrong with me?  _

She put a hand on her head, noting the heat radiating off her.  _ Where am I?  _

Her memories rippled like a mirage, there had been the palace and the emperor and then...she had followed Count Varley into the city and...the thought struck her like lightning. Varley had been attacked by figures in masks, and she had...had collapsed. Seared into her mind was the image of the crimson bird mask, the soft commanding voice the masked figure had used. 

_ I need...I need to get out of here.  _ She clung to the bed with one arm, pushing herself up. The world lurched and bile rose in her throat but she forced herself to remain upright. 

She swung her legs off the bed, grasping the bedpost like a liferaft and struggled to her feet. Her legs felt like glass as if they might give out at any moment. Exhaustion swept over her in a tide. 

Her heart lurched as the door opened softly. 

The masked figure slipped in the room, their hood down revealing a cascade of shining white hair.

“You should be sleeping.” The figure rebuked gently. 

Byleth scowled at them, almost snarling. “Let me go.”

She tilted their head, her face hidden behind the crimson mask. “Let you go? You aren’t our prisoner Eisner, we took you here after you collapsed in the street.” 

Byleth bristled. “How do you know my name?” She demanded. 

The figure shook their head dismissively. “Your name is well known in our circles. You  _ are  _ the archbishop’s favored adviser, are you not?” 

“I guard Lady Rhea.” Byleth corrected. Her heart pounded against her chest and her legs seemed steadier. 

The figure nodded. “Lady Rhea’s favored guard then.” They said mockingly. 

“ _ Who  _ are you?” Byleth demanded, the mask leering ominously at her.

“They call me Nemesis.” The figure answered. 

“Like the evil king?” Byleth asked sharply. 

“Like the liberator.” Nemesis said, their voice calm.

Byleth grit her teeth.  _ It’s time for me to go.  _ She shifted one foot back, evenly distributing her weight and launched herself at Nemesis with all strength. 

Nemesis stepped back, Byleth swung forcefully but each blow met air as Nemesis nimbly ducked and backstepped. Byleth growled in frustration, launching a flurry of furious punches at her. 

Her first punch glanced off Nemesis’ arm, her second met air as Nemesis nimbly ducked. She chuckled and Byleth grit her teeth putting all her weight behind another blow. 

Her fist rushed at Nemesis who smiled and then casually sidestepped, Byleth’s momentum forcing her forward. Quick as a viper Byleth’s wrist was tightly gripped and twisted behind her back.

She panted angrily, sweat trickling down her brow. “Let me go.” She demanded. Her hair fell damp into her eyes and her heartbeat like a pegasus’ wings. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up, Eisner.” Nemesis said cooly. 

Byleth jerked in the figure’s grasp, the grip remaining firm. “Get your hands off me.”

Nemesis tilted their head. “As long as you cease attacking me.”

“Fine.” Byleth bit out, her arm aching. 

Nemesis released her, stepping back as she did so.

Byleth rubbed her arm, scowling. “Where am I?”

Nemesis laughed. “You’re in my room.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” Byleth reprimanded, 

Nemesis shrugged. “You’re at our headquarters, I can’t say any more than that.”

“Are you going to let me leave?” Byleth asked, lamenting her lack of sword.

Nemesis nodded. “Of course, however, you’ll have to be blindfolded for safety reasons.” She crossed her arms. “But I believe you’ll want to stay the night.”

Byleth stared at them. “Why?”

“Today is a special event, Saint Indech’s day to be specific and we’re having a...celebration.” 

Byleth’s legs quaked and she forced herself to remain standing. “Why would I want to stay for that?”

“You’ll want to stay for the main event, I think it will interest you.” 

Byleth crossed her arms. “What kind of event?” 

Nemesis tilted her head. “Follow me and you’ll find out.” Byleth planted her feet and Nemesis sighed. “You have my word, no harm will come to you as long as you do no harm to others.” 

Reluctantly and shamefully curious Byleth nodded. “Fine. Take me to this...event.” 

“Follow me.” Nemesis turned, striding out the door. Byleth followed cautiously, scanning her surroundings. Nemesis led her through a stone tunnel, the walls damp and stained with black mold into a wide empty common room.

Tepid water dripped from the ceiling onto decrepit tables and chairs. Nemesis wrenched open a dark wooden door, leading her down another narrow tunnel. She tilted her head at the sound of rushing water.

“We’re underground,” Byleth said, certain.

Nemesis nodded. “Yes. You can try and hunt us down, of course, but such a thing would be futile at best and deadly at worst.”

Byleth scowled. “Deadly, how?” She asked as they walked. 

“We are not the only things that lurk beneath the city.” Nemesis said, leading her down a leftern tunnel. 

Byleth reluctantly follows them further down the path, keeping her eyes trained on the darkness for any of the cities’ “lurkers.”

“We’re here.” Nemesis announced as they stood before a ladder of rusted rungs lodged in the wall, leading straight up. 

“Where’s here?” Byleth mumbled bitterly.

Nemesis agilely swung onto the ladder, skipping the first five rungs. “We’re almost there.”

Byleth paused her hand on the fourth rung. 

“Would you rather spend the night down here?” Nemesis teased from above.

Her anger simmered but she ignored it, scaling the ladder beneath Nemesis. 

Rung after rung after rung went by until after what felt like an hour there was the sound of shifting metal and a heavy clank and light flowed into their narrow tunnel.

Nemesis quickly ascended into the light, Byleth following. 

Reluctantly she took Nemesis’ offered hand and staggered up. Quickly taking in her surroundings, she found herself in what looked like a warehouse. Instead of boxes or equipment, it was filled to the brim with people. People of all ages filled the crowd, most of them ragged looking and taut with eagerness. 

As Nemesis appeared a cheer rang out.  _ “Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix!”  _ The cheer rang out. Nemesis waved to the crowd which parted slowly before them, the crowd staring with reverence at Nemesis.

“I have arrived with a witness, a servant of the archbishop. She will tell the city of what happened here, she will tell them that justice was done.” She gestured to Byleth who shifted uncomfortably as the crowd’s gaze turned on her.

A tall man cloaked in black, face hidden behind a raven mask approached her and Byleth glared at him, ready to fight if need be.

“Nemesis has ordered me to keep watch on you during the trial. I assure you I have no intention of harming you….without reason.” The figure’s voice was deep and low, a threat hidden behind every word.

Byleth scowled. “Making sure I don’t escape?”

The figure shook his head, crossing his arms. “Making sure you do not make a...grievous error. Now quiet yourself, Nemesis is ready to begin.” 

Byleth turned her eyes back to Nemesis.

She walked to the front of the warehouse where a worn trestle table had been shoved against the wall and nimbly mounted it, standing above the crowd murmuring as she did so. 

“For too long we have suffered under the heel of those above, for too long our voices have been choked, our cries ignored.” Nemesis shouted, the crowd roaring their assent at each line. “But together, we can join our voices and we  _ will not be ignored _ ! Tonight….a noble will answer to _ us _ !” 

Confusion twinged in her mind.  _ What are they on about?  _ She had been beside Lady Rhea all her life, Rhea was just and kind, heeding the voices of all.

Nemesis raised their fist and the crowd rose in approval, Besides her the masked figure stood stiffly, their eyes never leaving Nemesis.

“Bring out the duke!” She commanded. A slender form in a blue gem crusted bird mask hurried to obey.

Byleth craned to see over the crowd.  _ They must have Varley.  _ She was swiftly proven right as his portly frame was dragged forward in shackles and stood on the table. 

“You can’t do this! You can’t do this to me! I’m a count, I’ll have your heads! I’ll have all of your heads!” He blustered as the crowd of hundreds jeered him, hissing and shouting insults. 

Byleth wished she had her sword, instead she waited helplessly. There may be a chance for her to steal one and rescue the count. 

Nemesis laughed, a cold brittle sound. “Tell me Count, who’s going to stop us? Von Aegir isn’t here nor is the Archbishop. There is no one here to save you.”

The count lunged at Nemesis his chains rattling, Nemesis effortlessly sidestepped him, leaving Varley to fall on his face. 

The slender figure hauled him to his feet and back onto the table. 

Varley scanned the crowd with wild eyes, a torrent of blood pouring from his nose.

Nemesis’ voice was pitiless. “It's time to answer for your crimes Varley.”

She turned to the crowd. “Many of you here are familiar with the count or the justicar as he is fond of calling himself. Many of you have lost years of your life to this man, he has sentenced countless souls to debtor’s prisons, to hard labor, and to death.” She paused as the crowd bellowed in anger. 

_ This isn’t right, it was his duty to hand down justice, just as it is Lady Rhea’s or Seteth’s. To punish a man for doing their duty is unjust.  _ Byleth thought, fury boiling within her.

“It was my job to punish criminals, they got what they deserved!” Varley bellowed, the crowd’s wrath swelling in return.

Nemesis laughed coldly. “Tell me Count Varley, was it your job to take bribes from a blacksmith who beat his apprentice to death? You let that man off with a warning. That same day you sentenced a mother of three to a debtor’s prison for being unable to repay an apothecary for her children’s medicine.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes. Such acts were harsh undoubtedly and corrupt if true, but of course, Nemesis was likely lying about it all.

On the stage, Varley trembled, a continuous sputtering stream of threats and justifications flowing from his mouth.

Byleth could feel the tension and anger in the people around her. A chill ran down her spine. She had never felt so much fury in one place.

Along the wall torches were lit, casting sinister shadows on Nemesis’ beaked mask. “You hanged children as young as twelve for petty thefts, I believe you referred to it as “Cleaning up the vermin” and all the while allowed artisans and nobles to steal wages from their workers. You did no justice Lord Varley, you inflicted cruelty and abuse upon those who could not fight back.”

The crowd shouted it’s assent as Nemesis turned to them. “These nobles think that  _ we  _ are nothing. That we can be killed, beaten, robbed, with impunity!” 

Nemesis paused to let the crowd shout it’s disapproval. 

“They are wrong. Tonight is only the beginning, the nobles will answer for their crimes, they will face those who they have abused, those they have ignored,  _ together  _ we will rise and they will  _ tremble _ !” 

Cheers and claps rang out as Lord Varley fidgeted and thrashed in his shackles. Nemesis turned to face him, her mask betraying no hint of mercy.

“Now there are countless other crimes I could lay at your feet Varley, but there is one in particular that you will answer for tonight.” 

“You will burn in Goddess' endless fires you criminal bitch!” Varley spat.

Nemesis merely tilted her head. "I do not rely on the Goddess for justice Varley, I make my own." 

Nemesis gestured to a figure in a fancier looking bird mask. The figure nodded, retreating to a back room and returned swiftly gently guiding a young violet haired girl.

The girl’s face was stricken and covered in tear tracks.

“Please...Please don’t kill me!” She wept, staring at the crowd and her father with wide horrified eyes. Nemesis hopped off the table approaching the girl. 

“Bernadetta Varley, please believe me when I tell you no one is here to hurt you." Nemesis' voice was oddly soft.

"We are here to make sure that you and others will not be harmed again.” Nemesis said firmly.

The girl bit her lip, rocking on feet seemingly uncomforted by Nemesis' words.

She gestured to the table. “This is Varley’s daughter, their servants have testified that in addition to inflicting harm on them he has inflicted it upon his own daughter.”

Byleth stared at the quaking girl, she looked frightened of Nemesis but...she looked more frightened of the man on the stage. Varley had not glanced at the girl, more intent on glaring at Nemesis.

“They speak of Varley tying his daughter to chairs, of beatings and vicious tirades, they speak of a man so vicious even his own blood was spared his wrath.”

The crowd hissed, their wrath expressed through taunts and shouted insults. Byleth’s eyes wandered to the girl standing before Nemesis and Varley. She looked terrified, her face frozen in horror and her arms wrapped tight around herself. 

“Bernadetta,” Nemesis said with surprising gentleness. “Your father has harmed countless men, women, and children, he will answer for his crimes but as his victim and his child I’d ask what you think should be done with him.” 

The girl shook like a leaf in a windstorm, clutching her head with a desperate look. 

“I don’t….I don’t know, please don’t hurt me!” The girl pleaded. 

Nemesis nodded gravely. “No one here is going to harm you and your father will never hurt anyone again.”

Bernadetta’s eyes were clasped shut. “I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

Something unfamiliar stirred in Byleth and she frowned, the feeling was disquieting. 

Nemesis nodded to the girl. “I swear to you, your father will hurt no one ever again.” 

“Useless girl! You would turn on your own father?!” Varley growled. 

Casually Nemesis delivered a backhand blow that sent Varley crashing to the ground, Varley yelping in pain.

“You are done terrorizing her.” She said coolly. 

“Are….Are you...going to….going to k….kill him?” The girl stammered out. The crowd shouted their assent but Nemesis merely tilted her head.

“I am. If you don’t wish to watch then I will have one of my associates escort you out.”

Varley glared, crumpled on the ground a stream of curses spilling from his mouth. 

The girl whimpered. “I want...please take me home.” 

Nemesis gestured to the slender figure in the jeweled mask. “Take her home, see that no harm comes to her.”

The figure nodded and took the girl gently by the arm. As the two exited Nemesis turned back to Varley.

“Now for the sentence.” She said, her voice easily carrying over his sputtered objections. “For your corruption, abuse, and murder you will die. Never again will someone suffer under your power.”

A hundred voices rose in approval, cheers and whoops followed. 

_ Savages. They’re baying for blood.  _

Yet another cowled figure emerged from the crowd bearing a gleaming ax. Nemesis took the ax, the bird mask reflected eerily in the steel. 

“I’ll make this quick Varley. That’s more mercy than you’ve ever given.” Nemesis said solemnly. 

Byleth took a step forward only to pause feeling the crow’s hand on her shoulder. “You cannot stop justice, I would advise you not to try.”

Byleth scowled. Hating her helplessness, hating the crowd that kept her from Nemesis’ victim, hating Nemesis for her warped vision of vengeance. 

Lord Varley was forced to his knees as he plead and sputtered, making a thousand impossible promises and vows to never harm another soul again. 

Nemesis ignored him, taking the ax and holding it aloft. Byleth winced as the ax fell. Cheers and roars rose from the crowd. A spray of crimson split the air and Varley’s gaping head fell from table onto the filthy floor.

Nemesis’ masked face was pitiless. “Tomorrow we will fill the streets with a manifest of his sins so none can dismiss this as craven murder. Do not mistake what we have done for mere vengeance. We have ensured that he will harm no one else ever again and we have given his victims a measure of peace. Do not grow complacent however, we have much left to do.”

A murmur of assent ran through the crowd and Nemesis paused, letting them take it in. Byleth’s hands curled into fists and she swore that Nemesis was looking straight at her behind her mask.

“This is only the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bout of writer's block but I'm back now. Anyways I hope y'all enjoyed chapter 2!  
> Next chapter we'll get Edelgard...ur....Nemesis' thoughts on everything. 
> 
> Please leave any criticism/compliments you have because i like attention


	3. Feed the Flames

“Have the body delivered to the gallows,” Edelgard ordered. Hubert nodded in response. 

“As you command.” He nodded, his crow mask bobbing eerily. 

It seemed fitting that Varley would be left on display just as his victims had been. A lesson to the nobles that their crimes had been noticed, that they were no longer untouchable. 

Edelgard dragged a listless finger across the edge of her ax. Varley had been a true monster, but he was merely a bottomfeeder, a tick on the hide of the true beasts of the Empire. Last night had been a triumph, yes, but it reminded her of how far they still had to go. 

She turned to Dorothea, her lovely face hidden behind an intricate emerald green mask sewn with glass jewels and bright feathers. “I assume Bernadetta made it home unscathed?” Edelgard asked. The girl had endured enough suffering, Edelgard would do all she could to spare her anymore.

Dorothea nodded. “The poor thing cried the whole way back but she gave us no issue.” 

Edelgard hummed and nodded slowly. “Thank you Songbird.” She said sincerely. 

She was relieved yet her thoughts drifted again and again to the look of sheer terror on Bernadetta’s face as her father stared down at her. So many had known of Varley’s deeds and yet they’d done nothing, said nothing. Her fists clenched. To know and do nothing was perhaps the worst sin of all. 

Edelgard forced the thoughts of Varley away. He was dead; his letters, journal, and court transcripts had been compiled into a pamphlet and distributed on the streets of Enbarr. A litany of petty and severe cruelties. There was no point dwelling on the dead when the living still suffered.

“Now there’s the matter of Eisner.” She said ponderously. 

Dorothea tilted her head curiously. “I suppose you’ll let her scamper back to the Archbishop with our warning.” 

Edelgard hummed. “Yes...that was the plan.” Yet some part of her wished to keep Byleth Eisner with her, to help her see the truth that had been hidden from her. Rhea’s true nature, the world’s corruption, she wished she could make Byleth understand. 

After all, if the retainer of the Archbishop herself could be made to understand then anyone could be brought to the truth.

After a moment she sighed. “I’ll have Crow escort her out when he returns.” She used Hubert’s false name. All her inner circle went masked, it allowed herself and Hubert their disguises and ensured that no traitor could reveal their true names or faces. 

She bid farewell to Dorothea and walked slowly to her bedchambers, making sure to greet and chat with those she met on the way. 

Knowing one’s allies was essential to an effective army, after all, no one was truly loyal to a stranger.

_ But you are a stranger. They know Nemesis, the Phoenix, not Edelgard.  _ A doubtful voice whispered.  _ You are using them, lying to them, just as the nobility does. _

_ No.  _ She rebutted inwardly. _ I am leading them and when I am done they will lead themselves. I am not like the nobility, grasping power for power’s sake.  _

Finally coming to her room she opened the door cautiously. Byleth sat on the bed, her arms crossed glaring at her.

Edelgard almost laughed. Rhea’s bodyguard, the figure known as the Ashen Demon looked for all the world like a petulant child. 

Byleth scowled as she entered, her hair disheveled and her eyes bright with anger. “I suppose last night was not to your liking?” Edelgard prodded.

Byleth snarled at her. “You murdered Lord Varley.” A pang of disappointment pricked at her mind. “No.” She corrected. “I executed Varley.”

Byleth scoffed derisively. 

“Surely you have killed in Rhea’s service.” Edelgard tilted her head. 

Byleth simply glared at her. “That was different. 

“How so?” Edelgard prodded. 

“They attacked Rhea, it was...I was just defending her.” Byleth argued.

Edelgard nodded. “Fair enough, but suppose someone attacked Rhea and those like her over and over through indirect means. Suppose Rhea’s attacker had had guards, titles, even the law to protect them; what would you do then?”

Byleth’s brow wrinkled. “I would...I would protect Rhea no matter what.”

Edelgard smiled brittly. “Protection was my intention as well. Varley killed hundreds at least and would’ve killed hundreds more. Not with his own hands of course but those he hanged, those he worked to exhaustion, are his victims nonetheless. 

“They were criminals-” Byleth began.

Edelgard repressed a snarl. “They were desperate.” She interrupted coolly. “The laws of the goddess and men forbid the starving to steal food but does not forbid the rich from allowing their lessers to starve. Varley ate roast stag, Duscur boar, and pegasus in the evening, and come morning he would condemn the poor for stealing bread. Does that not seem twisted to you?”

Byleth’s face tensed. “The goddess gave some people more than others, some people have crests or nobility and some don’t, that’s natural,” Byleth argued.

_ I’d wager those words came from Rhea’s mouth.  _ She thought bitterly. 

She remembered the wrenching ache of hunger in her stomach, remembered watching as other children starved and succumbed beside her. It had been common for some children to die in the night of illness, starvation, or simply the inability to continue fighting. Come morning she and the other children had left them for the guard and a pauper’s grave. 

Taking a deep breath she formulated her reply. “It’s not natural. Crests are deliberately bred for and nobility is bestowed by the church or hoarded riches. Besides that, neither crests nor nobility should decide the worth of one’s life.” She insisted, her voice rising just as anger rose in chest.

Byleth looked at her sharply. “Nobility and crests are gifts from the goddess, they should be honored!”

“Any goddess willing to consign millions to poverty, starvation, and abuse is not worth honoring,” Edelgard said with a calm that she did not feel. 

Byleth’s eyes widened. “That’s blasphemy!” She uttered indignantly. 

“The truth is blasphemy?” She clicked her tongue. “That bodes ill for the church, don’t you think?”

Byleth glared at her, her fists clenched against the bedsheets. 

Edelgard adjusted her mask preparing her pitch. “I would like to offer you a deal Byleth. Stay with me for a week, at the end you can walk freely back to Rhea.” 

Byleth blinked repeatedly. “Why would I stay with you for a week?” She asked, incredulous. 

Edelgard smiled behind the mask. “I am certain by the end of the week I can change your mind on the necessity of both crests and nobility. You could consider it a trial of faith of sorts. If I’m wrong and your faith in Rhea is unwavering you gain valuable information on my operation to bring back to her.

Reluctant curiosity inched onto Byleth’s face. “And you’ll just let me walk with information on you?”

Edelgard nodded. “I give you my word.”

Byleth grimaced. “And what if I refuse?”

Edelgard shrugged. “I will return you to the city proper and you can return to your...duties.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes. “I accept your deal. I will learn what I need to destroy you.” She said fiercely. 

Edelgard smiled behind her mask. “We’ll see.” She would show Byleth the truth whether or not Byleth could accept it was up to her. 

“I’d request that you accompany me on an outing.” Edelgard offered. 

Byleth stood. “Another murder?”

Edelgard shook her head. “Nothing so dramatic.” She left the room, trusting that Byleth’s curiosity would drive her to follow. 

She led her through the tunnels gesturing for several of her compatriots to follow her. Ladislava fell in beside her, a wyvern mask concealing her visage. 

“The wagons are ready and the word is spread.” 

Edelgard nodded. “Excellent work as always.” She nodded gratefully to Ladislava.

She led her group further into the tunnels before ascending a rusted iron ladder onto the surface.

She clamored up into a dismal ally between a ramshackle tavern and a foul-smelling butcher’s shop. Her followers emerged quickly, Byleth ascending last. 

The crate filled wagon had been left behind the tavern, it’s weathered horses whinnying softly as Edelgard approached.

She patted one on the neck, vowing to offer the horses a bit of sugar for their trouble. 

“You can take the reins, Wyvern.” She nodded to Ladislava. 

She leapt easily onto the cart, perching atop one of the crates. Dorothea and Byleth followed. 

The cart ambled uneasily along the cobblestone road jostling her violently as it slowly drove on.

The day was gray and overcast, heavy dark clouds sprawled heavily in the west. It would rain soon and rain hard. 

It had stormed the night Edelgard had died. She had lain prone in a filthy alleyway, every inch of her skin burning with agony. 

Her sister had once told her that rain was the tears of the Goddess. Edelgard no longer believed in the goddess but that night it had been easy to believe the goddess was weeping for her.

“Where are we going?” Byleth demanded.

“To a friend of mine.” Dorothea answered. Dorothea had made many useful contacts in her opera days, including a merchant willing to rent out his warehouse once a week. 

The cart passed by wooden tenements leaning precariously against each other, sturdy but squat and ugly stone businesses, and ramshackle tents and shacks that sprung up everywhere a building had not already claimed.

She snuck a glance at Byleth. The woman watched the scenery with an impassive expression.

They rode past the docks, the air filled with brine, salt, and more than a hint of rot. The dockmen and sailors glanced idly at them as they unloaded their ship’s cargo, gambled, and drank. None of them spared them curiosity, they had taken the same route many times before after all.

The cart passed several large storage buildings until it came to an uneasy stop. A crowd had already gathered around their warehouse in anticipation of the day’s activities. Edelgard smiled, there were more than there had been the week before. Word was spreading. 

Edelgard smiled, leapt down from the cart, and began heaving crates off the cart. Wordlessly Ladislava and a brawny recruit called Willis assisted her in the task.

It was easy for Edelgard, her second crest had imbued her limbs with unnatural strength and power. Edelgard hated it, but using it for something other than killing gave her a small amount of satisfaction. 

Dorothea approached the crowd, mingling and waving to the familiar faces amongst them. Dorothea was invaluable for countless reasons, perhaps the greatest of which was ease with which she inspired love. 

The Songbird, as she was known on the street, had become something of a legend. They whispered that she was a servant of the goddess sent to care for those the church had abandoned. 

A small part of Edelgard envied her gift, Edelgard inspired many things, rage, obedience, even lust on a few unpleasant occasions but love was beyond her. It was foolish of her to lament it, love was nothing compared to her anger, to her ambition.

Edelgard cracked open a crate revealing the grain within. “Line up and everyone will get their fair share!” She called out over the clamor of the small crowd.

Ladislava stood by the crate ensuring no one took more than they should and Willis carried a canvas sack filled with pamphlets. 

Edelgard had labored over them, they described the injustices of Fodlan, the cruelty of the nobles, and the indifference of the church. She knew not all the commoners could read and that many would not care but she would reach some of them and that was what mattered.

Dorothea had gathered a horde of children around her and was handing out sweets. The sight of the children thin to the point of skeletal, ready to fight for a meal, and hopelessly desperate for any affection twisted in her stomach. 

The crowd forced itself into a long line, Edelgard moving to intervene with any fights breaking out. Near the front two large barrel chested men shoved at each other.

“Bastard!” The first growled. “This is my spot, yer trying to cut ahead.” The first man drew himself up, getting in the second’s space.

“You lie! I was here first, you’re trying to take more than your share, that’s what you want!” The second replied, giving the man a harsh shove. He stumbled back, and spat on the ground. 

“Why you-” The first began before Edelgard gripped him hard by the arm. 

“If you’re going to behave like children you will be treated like children.” Edelgard said coolly, keeping her grip on the first man’s arm.

Both men stared at her with wide eyes and Edelgard felt a rush of gratitude for the platforms she had put in her boots. “There’s enough to go around for everyone, fighting is utterly pointless.” She said scournfully.

“S….Sorry Phoenix.” One man said, looking ashamed. The other glared at her brashly. 

“I got kids to feed, I could give a damn about you or your  _ cause. _ ”

Edelgard nodded, slowly releasing the first man. “I did not ask for your support. I am here to feed the hungry and petty bickering hinders my ability to do that.” 

The anger fled from the other man’s face and he crossed his arms. “I’ll keep m’hands to m’self but only for the food.”

Edelgard shrugged. “Your reasons are your own.” She said truthfully. 

Most of the crowd came only for the food but more and more of them had read the pamphlets, many of them had arrived at Varley’s trial, and many of them had the spark of anger in their eyes. 

You could not expect a revolution on an empty stomach and Edelgard could not watch the cities’ suffering and do nothing. It wasn’t enough either for revolution or relief but it was something. 

Edelgard returned to the cart, assisting Ladislava in handing out bread, oil, honey, grain, oats, and beans.

Byleth stared at her all the while; her eyes gleaming like sapphires and her lovely face fixed in a curious frown.

Edelgard pretended to notice keeping her attention on the throng of people appearing before her until a sharp tap on her shoulder made her turn.

“Why did you bring me here?” Byleth asked tensely. 

Edelgard stretched her arms and stepped away from the crowd before answering.

_ Do I give her the truth or something easy to swallow?  _ Edelgard deliberated. 

“I wanted to show you a different side of the city. Beyond the opera house, the manors, the...palace, people are starving, children are starving.” She answered.

Byleth frowned. “Do they work?” 

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “Does that matter? The nobles hardly work and they don’t go hungry.” She gestured at the crowd. “Many in this crowd are elderly or lame and can’t work, should they starve? Should the children?”

Byleth scowled. “I didn’t say that. But if they’re not working then it’s no wonder they’re starving.”

“Most of them work, even the children; some work more than one trade but it’s not enough. The wages are too low and prices too high.” She ground her teeth frustrated. “The merchants have agreed to keep wages low and they have not adjusted their prices to match. The nobles don’t care, the merchants get richer, and the commoners are left in the dirt.”

Byleth shook her head. “If the nobles knew about this they’d care.” 

Edelgard laughed ruefully. “The nobles barely pay better than merchants and they’re more likely to whip you for dropping a teacup.” She sighed, suddenly exhausted. “No one cares for the commoners, the crestless, the outcasts. That’s why I do what I do.” 

Something almost soft flickered across Byleth’s face. “I’ll tell Rhea about the commonors when I return to her. She’ll help them.” Byleth said with certainty.

A bitter laugh caught in Edelgard’s throat. “Oh you dear fool.” She thought of saying. “Who do you think made them commonors?” But Byleth was not ready for that revelation yet.

But some long-forgotten corner of Edelgard wanted to tell her everything, to take off her mask and face the world as Edelgard with Byleth beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I defeated my writer's block at long last. Edelgard's pov is easier than Byleth's I have to say. This wasn't exactly action packed  
> so I hope y'all enjoyed it anyways.   
> Also please leave any feedback you have as I thrive on attention.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, had another long writing block but I'm back. This is a story I've wanted to write for a long time and I hope y'all enjoy it.
> 
> Please review if you have time, cause I really wanna know what y'all think of this.


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